


in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally.

by Kealpos



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Song Lyrics, Use of Faggot multiple times throughout fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kealpos/pseuds/Kealpos
Summary: Definition of lovesick.Jeremy (and maybe Michael)'s picture next to it.





	in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally.

**Author's Note:**

> Use of Faggot multiple times throughout fic
> 
> Song is "Lovesick boys" by Conan Gray

_ I was alone for a while _

 

Jeremy and Michael had been best friends for.. Forever, almost. Jeremy liked Michael, Michael liked Jeremy, and that was that. Except, Jeremy didn’t like the reputation of Jeremy and Michael Michael and Jeremy or as Rich Goranski, a guy who seemed to rise to a new domineering power out of practically nowhere called them, Faggot and Panic Attack. 

 

Michael had always brushed off the offensive nickname when not followed by any beating him up afterward, sometimes agreeing, but there were times, after he first came out in 9th grade, when it shook him up badly. Over the years, he had integrated it as a part of his identity.

 

(Now, he only got shook up if someone on the street yelled it at him and it was dark. Or if he could see the onslaught of fists and feet. Or when he posted some song about loving boys on his youtube channel and a few months later the comments would roll in. Because, even if he took the word as it was given, turned the sharp glass raining on him into beautiful stained glass portraits, he was still a gay teenager of color. He was not untouchable.)

 

Jeremy on the other had detested both the nicknames. He’d shuffle closer to Michael which the bullies crowed at. Jeremy breathing heavily, attempting to make a grab for Michael’s comforting arm, internally, trying to stop himself by yelling “Stop! You’re proving both nicknames to be true!”

 

He had to go to the nurse for those breakdowns.

 

_ You came along and you asked me for a smile _

 

So Jeremy tried to leave sometimes. But Michael always calmed him down and made him too happy to leave.

 

_ I guess then the stars had aligned _

 

But enter stage right, Christine Canigula. There was someone else that made the rain leave from above Jeremy’s head.

 

_ A flower bloomed _

 

Sure, Michael was a bit jealous. But he was happy and supportive, because what kind of dick, honestly?

 

_ The clouds were rushing out of my mind _

 

Jeremy’s heart pumped in his chest and he could feel every inch of blood move through his body, at least that’s what it felt like. That’s what crushes felt like to Jeremy. Not butterflies, drifting lazily in the stomach, feeble threats to come up there echoing in ears. Blood. Being alive. He didn’t feel like a dream when he was in love. He felt like warm reality. 

Dreams and imaginations were cold because his anxiety liked to use them in its torturous clutches. Reality was warm because it was almost always better. He almost always had really cold hands, but a warm, red face.

 

_ And that's how it goes in the films _

 

Jeremy adored romcoms. Ever since he was a little boy. It was better than his parents yelling ineverwantedthiskidanywayosihowdareyoupinitonme and iloveyousomuchwhydontyouthinkidoyounevercaredforme and ioughttojustleavethisplaceandourkidournastyterribledissapointingdaughterwhatabadkid.

 

It gave him examples. Not good examples, but his parents were never any better. Sometimes they were okay, but only on their own. They were never any good together.

 

_ Tears of honeysuckle welling up in your eyes _

 

Jeremy always got emotionally invested in the romcoms. It was a good outlet for the buildup of tears he had been saving since 5th grade, when a big whiteboard with the class rules held rule number 6: No crying. 

 

Jeremy allowed himself to cry when he talked to Christine one day, apologizing for a mess of a badly executed play, already exceedingly terrible, but worsened to the point of no return or rescue.

 

_ A boy meets a girl, they go off to beat the world _

 

They kinda sorta ended up dating

 

_ And they both are left unsatisfied _

 

They kinda sorta broke up.

 

One day Jeremy had explained the living he felt in his veins when he liked someone compared the song or the flower or the butterfly in the heart. Christine never ever felt anything like that, she said. Jeremy had been the nicest, sweetest, kindest boy she ever dated, she said. She still didn’t feel it, she said.

 

“Besides!” She said. “That can’t be the feeling of love or crushes! I feel it all the times for girls. It’s just really wanting to be friends with someone!”

 

Jeremy just stared at her for a minute, before smiling softly, sadly, and announcing they ought to break up. 

He sent her to Michael to talk it out.

 

_ Well, lovesick boys will write you love songs _

 

‘You look so so pretty,’ the note said.

 

‘You make me want to die. Or live. You’re ethereal,’ the note continued.

 

‘I cry about you. Does this seem stalkerish and creepy?’ the note questioned.

 

‘It does,’ the note concluded.

 

_ And lovesick girls will always listen _

 

It had been addressed to a certain name already. The intended receiver would have cherished the note absolutely if it hadn’t been crushed and shoved in a wallet.

 

_ But what you fail to see is there's plenty of us _

 

Jeremy wrote a note to Christine before the whole mess between everyone and their cat had happened. Except, that note got flushed down a toilet.

 

Jeremy wrote another note to Christine while the dated, but in a panic of seeing an approaching Canigula, ate it.

 

Christine wrote a note to Brooke Lohst, a notorious pretty girl, but that was stuffed in a locker and later gripped in the hand of one blonde girl as she kissed a black haired girl.

 

Michael wrote a note to Jeremy, but it got stuffed in a wallet.

 

_ So keep your petals pointing towards the sun _

 

“She looks me dead in the eyes and says “Hey Brian, if you still believe in the Lord above, get on your hands and knees and pray for us.”,” Michael sings.

 

They’re in a karaoke bar, just himself and Michael. Also all their friends. But it feels like only himself and Michael.

 

_ And bloom, bloom, bloom _

 

Brooke kisses Christine. Rich kisses Jake. Jenna and Chloe don’t kiss anyone, but Chloe is somewhere at the bar, trying to get that to change.

 

_ Just bloom, just bloom _

 

Jeremy feels the blood in his body. He feels alive watching Michael. He tears up like he’s watching a rom-com again.

 

_ You watch as he walks through the fields _

 

Jeremy and Michael move into an apartment together for college and Michael brings boys home. They’re loud as Jeremy tries to study; the bed creaking, the cut-off moans, the panting, the grunts.

 

_ Crushing pretty daisies under his heavy heels _

 

They’re all pretty boys and they usually end up staying for breakfast. Michael could have his pick of any of them, but Jeremy never sees them again.

 

_ He picks you a big one, it withers in the sun _

 

~~ sometimes jeremy wonders if he could have any of them too ~~

 

_ You notice that the flower is you _

 

Jeremy wishes that he could, just once, the one who stays over for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And midnight snack and breakfast again because he wants to stay and he wants Michael.

 

_ And I know that he has the charm _

 

It never is, though.

 

_ To sweep you off your feet and wrap you around his arm _

 

Jeremy bites back his own moan, hand cupped beneath him, other hand wrapped around something of his.

 

In another room, Michael loudly makes really pretty music. Pretty music isn’t the right word. Obscene cries, maybe.

 

Jeremy making Michael make those sounds would be a lot prettier.

 

_ But he hurts you like crazy _

 

He doesn’t hurt Jeremy by being toxic. Exact opposite. Michael hurts Jeremy by not being his. By not making Jeremy his.

 

He feels so fucking alive nowadays, the warmth of reality is starting to cool down.

 

_ He loves you, well maybe _

 

Jeremy thinks he feels life in Michael too, when he catches him staring. That’s not the way Michael loves, he tells himself in attempt to ward off hope. Reality, he says. Reality, he whispers like a prayer.

 

Of course, passing on traits is so easy between friends.

 

_ But you are so much better than you know that you are _

 

Michael could never love him. That’s a fact. Even if the Fag and P.A duo lives on, years later, there's no chance, Jeremy sobs at night.

 

_ Cause lovesick boys will write you love songs _

 

Jeremy doesn’t talk much at breakfast anymore. But he does write everything he wishes he could say in a google drive folder, full of dumb notes and letters to Michael.

 

_ And lovesick girls will always listen _

 

Michael wishes he knew why Jeremy never spoke to him in the mornings. Or at night. Or ever, it felt like. The weight of the old note in a wallet long lost felt more like bricks, years later.

 

Jeremy fell asleep in the middle of typing. Right on the keyboard.

 

_ But what you fail to see is there's plenty of us _

 

Michael normally doesn’t look at any shit on Jeremy’s computer. He learned that when they were 15 and gay furry porn lit up the screen Michael had been snooping on.

 

But he looks at the paper for a second, looks away, then looks back. It’s addressed to him.

 

He bites his lip and looks at Jeremy.

Jeremy winds up being moved to his bed and Michael looks closely.

 

_ So keep your petals pointing towards the sun _

 

The note Jeremy was writing is sad.

 

Michael exits out only to be thrust into a folder full of these notes. A folder simply titled, Michael.

 

Some are heartbreaking, some are angry, some are fearful, some are lovely, some are borderline pornographic or ripping the rope of borderline to just make it pornographic.

 

Michael reads them all.

 

_ And bloom, bloom, bloom _

 

Jeremy wakes up in bed. His computer is powered down with a sticky note on it.

 

Jeremy remembers what he was writing last night and panics. Michael must’ve put him to bed. Did he read…..?

 

_ Just bloom, just bloom, just bloom _

 

He looks at the sticky note on the computer, writing on it. From Michael, obviously.

 

It reads, ‘Stay for breakfast? And lunch? And dinner? And midnight snack and breakfast again because I want you to stay? I always want you to stay? I want you to stay for me and be mine? So please. Stay? -Michael’

 

Jeremy cries like he’s watching a rom-com again and he goes and finds Michael in the kitchen making french toast and he’s wearing the apron that Jeremy got him as a joke that’s rainbow striped and says ‘fag’ on it because it’s part of the Michael and Jeremy duo history and Jeremy and Michael stop and. 

 

Jeremy kisses him. Michael kisses back. The ice in the reality and in the love that had flowed through his veins for so long and had made reality cold and sharp and painful thawed away in an instant.

 

Reality is so so warm it burns.

 

So does the french toast, unfortunately.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks
> 
> tumblr: https://transbrookelohst.tumblr.com/


End file.
